


YOU [plural]

by KaiserNoire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also there are aliens just go with it, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Yokai, Catboy (kinda) Keith, Childe/Sire Bond(s), M/M, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampire Turning, Werewolf Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 09:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21336226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserNoire/pseuds/KaiserNoire
Summary: According to Japanese folklore, bakeneko lurk in the mountains & take wolves along with them to attack travelers. Keith has a bone to pick with a different clan. Good thing he always keeps Shiro close.OR: a futuristic take on vampires and Japanese demons (yokai) featuring werewolf Shiro and “catboy” Keith.(Tags will be updated as the fic progresses.)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Kudos: 46





	YOU [plural]

**Author's Note:**

> I swear all the following chapters will be longer. How much longer, I cannot tell you. I’m estimating that this is gonna be about 4 chaps in total, not including the prologue. And there is a high likelihood that the rating will go up, but I cannot promise it. (If it does it’s because of the smut lmao.)
> 
> This was originally gonna be a very basic vampire plot, written for Vampire Sheith week over on Twitter in October, but then my Asian Studies major jumped out and welp now we’re here. Yes, a few things will be based off of Japanese folklore. This is gonna be a bit of an experiment so let me know how you like it! 
> 
> Updates about chapters will be on my [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/kaisernoire).

A striking figure waded through the throng of people, slightly ducking his head in a nod, his shock of white hair never moving from it’s perfectly quaffed state. He shifted his wide shoulders to make it easier to cut his way through the absolutely packed nightclub. There was no need though; people got sight of him and parted for him. His built upper body easily visible and completely on display, the black button-up a pathetic attempt at obscuring his skin with it’s entirely transparent floral nature, and a pair of pitch black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, tapering off in a slim fit ending at a fashionable distance from his high gloss dress shoes.

The blue, purple, red strobe of the club lights reflected off his silver eyes, making them shift color. He shook his head, trying to ward off the headache that he knew that the lights would eventually cause if they ended up staying here all night. If everything went according to plan then he wouldn’t have to leave the confines of their private booth for a while, though.

“Pardon me,” he said as he nodded to a young alien who looked like they might be Martian in origin, if their round facial features and jewel tone green skin had been any indication.

The Martian dipped their head and tucked a lock of eerily luminescent black hair behind their pointed ear, an attempt at acting coy. “I can take one of those drinks off your hands,” they said, obviously flirting, hand delicately dusting the long lines of the fitted cotton cuff of the man’s dress shirt. 

The man smiled, something charming and knowing. “Sorry,” but the smile and apology didn’t reach his eyes at all, “one of these is for my partner.” And he gestured up to a hovering private booth. 

The booth itself had been partially shrouded with a glimmer spell provided by the club, giving the occupants full privacy while still allowing them to have an unobscured view and front row seat to the rush of bodies under the box seat. A man leaned against the door frame of the booth, bare forearms crossed over his chest, a smirk pulled at his lips. The long line of his torso pulled at the black top, split sleeves billowing around his hips as he shifted, compact muscle evident from the extremely low front split of the top, with its endpoint around his navel. The two men’s eyes met, a clash of stormy grays and piercing purple. 

Never breaking eye contact, the man holding the drinks on the dance floor made his way back to the private booth. As he got closer the booth slowly lowered from it’s near fourteen-feet floating height to less than three feet, and a set transparent stairs materialized in a flash of glittering blue. It only took the man a few easy steps of his oxblood-red dress shoes on the solid vision holographic steps, and he was pulled into the booth by the other. 

“Took you long enough.”

“Miss me, baby?” Silver eyes gleamed, the hint of a fang apparent as he smirked. 

“Kinda.” And the slender man plucked a neon red drink from the other’s hand. “Mainly I wanted my drink. I don’t think I can do this sober.”

“What? You can’t bite me sober?” There was a teasing lit to his voice, but deep down it hurt more than he would have liked to admit.  
Purple eyes flashed. “Shiro, you know that’s not it. Besides,” and he grabbed the remaining drink, a bubbling peach colored concoction in a thin flute, setting it on the table, “_you_ shouldn’t be drinking. Liquor thins the blood.”

“Keith,” the taller man —Shiro—whined. He pulled his shoulders in, a pout on his lips. “_Baby._”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy act. You know I’m basically immune.” There was no heat to Keith’s words. Keith patted Shiro’s cheek right before he pulled Shiro onto the large couch that took up most of the booth. 

Shiro laughed low as he followed, “_Basically_ being the keyword there. It’s worth a try every single time.”

“Fine. You can have your drink once the basic part of the ritual is done. I really don’t care if you’re dunk then.”

Keith pressed two fingers against Shiro’s chest, guiding him to lean against the large collection of pillows. 

“Uh,” Shiro stalled. “I thought you were gonna do my neck like you normally do?” Shiro hoped that Keith didn’t hear the warble in his voice. 

Keith settled himself between Shiro’s thighs on the couch. “Don’t want to make a noticeable mess.” Keith tapped at Shiro’s buckle of his belt, the color of the leather matched Shiro’s shoes. “Gonna bite the inner side of your thigh. That way if you thrash you’re less likely to punch me,” Shiro’s faint _‘Hey! That happened once,’_ didn’t stop Keith from finishing, “And that way if you do bleed a lot it’s easier to clean up. I _will_ have to bite pretty deep for this.” 

Shiro looked up at Keith, eyes wide. Keith felt the shift as mild panic crept across Shiro’s face.

Keith blinked, and then changed the tone of his voice to something private, something softer. “Is that OK?”

Shiro closed his eyes and inhaled deep, apparently trying to kick himself back into gear. “Y-yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool.” And Keith tapped the belt buckle again. “Take those off for me. You can keep your underwear on.” Keith dug in his black leather bag and pulled out a few thin and stout red candles, a silver dish, an intricately ornate ceremonial dagger, and a small book. As he arranged the items on the table, he dragged a nail across a metal leg of the table which caused a spark to aid in lighting the candle. Keith cleared his throat. “Oh, and by the way, you _are_ gonna get an erection from this. Just an, uh, F.Y.I.” Keith’s eyes drifted over to Shiro’s seemingly perpetually shocked ones.

Shiro swallowed. Keith’s eyes tracked the movement, fang bitting into his bottom lip. After a beat Keith shook his head and looked down as he reached behind his head to tie up his hair. 

“Have you done this before,” Shiro blurted out. 

Keith’s eyes snapped up to Shiro’s face, blush high on his cheeks and some of Keith’s earlier resolve started to drift away. “A few times, but that was way before we met.”

‘So decades ago then,’ Shiro thought to himself. That both made him feel better that Keith hadn’t turned anyone while they had been...“Together” and made him feel even more nervous since that meant that Keith was out of practice. 

“But,” Keith started and Shiro could practically _taste_ the nervousness seeping off of Keith, “I’ve never tried to turn a were’.” And Keith paused for a moment. “It _is_ possible, and, according to all my research, the process should be exactly the same since you are a were_wolf_. If you were any other kind of were’, there could be complications, but wolfs have a history of being successfully turned. No matter how small that history is.” Keith was rambling and he knew it. “I should just have to apply more _force_ in the bite, and the basic drain will be a bit more complicated, due to your heal time, but yeah we should be just fine.”__

_ _“_Should?_” Shiro latched on to the word. If his ears were in their wolf state then they would have been pressed against his head in worry._ _

_ _Something dangerous and partially threatening flashed across Keith’s piercing gaze, “We _will_ be fine. We _will_, Shiro. I’m gonna make sure of it.”_ _

_ _Shiro realized that what he originally read as dangerous and threatening in Keith’s eyes wasn’t a proper read at all. _ _

_ _It was passion. It was dedication. It was determination. _ _

_ _The mostly muffled music of the club met Shiro’s ears, and he sighed as he leaned back into the plush cushions. “I trust you, Keith.”_ _

_ _“Thank you,” Keith breathed out as he rearrange Shiro on the couch. “Oh, and Shiro?”_ _

_ _“Yeah?”_ _

_ _“Thank you.”_ _

_ _Shiro blinked. “For what?” The sincerity in Keith’s voice nearly leveled Shiro on the spot. If Shiro hadn’t already fallen in love with Keith almost a lifetime ago that would have been the nail in the, metaphorical, coffin. _ _

_ _“For this. For allowing me to turn you.”_ _

_ _“Of course, Keith. What are best friends for.”_ _

_ _“Of course.” Keith whispered it out, barely a breath across his lips, his head bowed as he absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of Shiro’s boxer-briefs, completely lost in thought. Keith seemed to break himself out of it as soon as he realized that he had been running his thumb across the tender flesh under the hem of Shiro’s underwear, right across Shiro’s upper thigh. A proper blush bloomed high across Keith’s cheeks and he cleared his throat, undoubtably embarrassed for how intimate that action had been. “Ready?”_ _

_ _“As I will ever be.” Shiro attempted to not let his heart beat out of his chest. _ _

_ _Keith gave Shiro a lopsided smile, just the barest hint of of his recessed fangs visible. “Try not to punch me, OK?”_ _

_ _Shiro snorted and properly relaxed into the plush sofa. “No promises.”_ _

_ _Relaxing around Keith was never a chore, even though according to Shiro’s werewolf instincts he wasn’t supposed to be able to relax around vampires. Though, as Keith kept trying to tell him, Keith wasn’t a _vampire_ vampire, but rather an ancient vampiric cat demon._ _

_ _Which reminded Shiro. _ _

_ _“Keith?” It came out a bit slurred. Probably Keith’s pre-venom doing it’s job already. _ _

_ _Keith hummed and looked up from his position, head nestled right between Shiro’s legs. Shiro tried not to gulp. Keith had been licking the inner part of Shiro’s thigh, presumably trying to find the vein that he needed, and to lightly numb the spot with his saliva. _ _

_ _“Will I be considered a Yōkai after this is done?”_ _

_ _Shiro had been steeling himself for the way that Keith would look, bangs rumpled from Keith pushing them up and out of his face as he licked at Shiro’s sensitive skin, for the way that Shiro knew that Keith’s eyes would be completely blown out, the way that they always looked right before he was going to feed, the way that Keith’s voice always dropped to a growl that never failed to travel right to Shiro’s dick. But even though Shiro knew that Keith would look absolutely devastating, he hadn’t anticipated the magic that seemed to seep from Keith, the yellow glow to Keith’s eyes, and the way that Keith seemed to unconsciously guide Shiro’s hand to his inky black hair. _ _

_ _Shiro absentmindedly ran his fingers though the strands and marveled on how they seemed to cause small sparks of electricity to arc though his fingertips. _ _

_ _“Technically,” Keith said as he dipped his head back to his previous task, tongue darting out. “You will.” And Keith paused a beat as Shiro tried not to imagine the way that Keith would look sucking him off. “And technically you won’t be considered a werewolf anymore. You will be an okuri-okami.”_ _

_ _Shiro’s breath started to become labored. “What’s the difference?”_ _

_ _A lick trailed a bit closer to Shiro’s groin and Shiro couldn’t stop the soft _“hah!”_ that escaped his lips. _ _

_ _“A standard okuri-inu is just a regular dog demon, but you will be something a lot more powerful. You will be a protector and a guide. Granted, just for me, but still.”_ _

_ _Keith’s voice had taken on a hauntingly beautiful cadence to it. Almost like he was _breathing_ magic out into the world. Which considering how powerful of a yokai Keith truly was wouldn’t have surprised Shiro in the slightest. _ _

_ _“Ah, gotcha. Thanks.”_ _

_ _Keith hadn’t been expecting that kind of response from Shiro and it caused him to laugh against Shiro’s skin. It was like a pure lightening strike to Shiro’s heart. But then again, that could have been the sharp pricks of Keith’s fangs breaking into the tender stripe of Shiro’s skin. _ _

_ _Shiro’s scream was drowned out by the constant thunder of the nightclub’s music. _ _

_ _Keith had been right though: the bite went straight to Shiro’s dick. Shiro tried to rationalize it away. Tried to tell himself that it was just the typical euphoric reaction that his body always felt when Keith fed from his neck. Keith said that he would get an erection, after all. _ _

_ _But he knew better._ _

**Author's Note:**

> ________
> 
> I mostly just scream about sheith.  
[Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/kaisernoire) | [Website](Http://www.kaisernoire.com)


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